"Well listen, man, I'm telling you, I need that fish to be waiting for me in the morning," Jack is saying, talking into a Moto Razr from an alcove behind the bartaps. "I'm trying to run a special with surf, turf, and smurfs. You get the fish, chopped steak, and blueberry beer, and I can't run no surf-turf-n-smurf without fish, so dammit-" the barowner stops himself, letting out a sigh and glancing around the bar, which is doing alright but certainly not filled to capacity. "Stan, look, I'm sorry. I'm under a lot of pressure here, alright? I just really need that fish, okay? Will you have it for me in the morning or not? It's not gonna be the same without that fresh trout." A moment passes, and another, while he listens closely to the tiny speaker. "-Alright, fine." The phone snaps shut and gets slapped none-too-gently on the bartop. "Dammit. /Damnit./" Lean arms tent over the bar as he pushes down on the counter, hanging his head. It's hard to be a small business owner in this economy.

"Well listen, man, I'm telling you, I need that fish to be waiting for me in the morning," Jack is saying, talking into a Moto Razr from an alcove behind the bartaps. "I'm trying to run a special with surf, turf, and smurfs. You get the fish, chopped steak, and blueberry beer, and I can't run no surf-turf-n-smurf without fish, so dammit-" the barowner stops himself, letting out a sigh and glancing around the bar, which is doing alright but certainly not filled to capacity. "Stan, look, I'm sorry. I'm under a lot of pressure here, alright? I just really need that fish, okay? Will you have it for me in the morning or not? It's not gonna be the same without that fresh trout." A moment passes, and another, while he listens closely to the tiny speaker. "-Alright, fine." The phone snaps shut and gets slapped none-too-gently on the bartop. "Dammit. /Damnit./" Lean arms tent over the bar as he pushes down on the counter, hanging his head. It's hard to be a small business owner in this economy.

"No fish? Sounds rough." James wanders up to the bar. The same James that was bitten by a 'rabid' dog one night, then hit by a car not too far from here the next day. At least he isn't stuck walking with a limp anymore.

"Maybe you at least have some Lord Calvert?" The glasses at the end of his nose fall down slightly, revealing his unsettling slitted red eyes."Could use a drink after a week like this."

Only having shown up on duty the once, Flynn isn't a barfly by any measure, but is starting to become something of a regular of Jack's. Not because of the people, but because the food is pretty decent and well priced. He walks in, looks around, and then makes his way to the bar, wearing a heavy jacket, jeans, a beanie and some red-and-black gloves.

Taking a seat, he leans on the bar and waits for Jack to be free, and then requests 'whatever is on special.' Whatever that is.

Emma doesn't live far from here. And she has entered been home in about a day. Now released from the hospital she found the need for a drink, maybe to distract the never ending thoughts. With her is Shaemus. At this point she won't walk alone, and with her dog -- which by the way, is a massive bear like creature, they find shelter from the cold in Jack's bar. This redhead moves with a dancers grace, but is wearing scrubs with a winter wool coat over it. On her head, side of the forhead and back is a scar, with stitches. She looks tired, even pained, but goes to find a seat right away with her dog at her side.

"It ain't surf 'n' turf," Jack replies to Flynn, flipping the phone up into the air and slipping it into the pocket of his loudly-printed, wide-collared shirt, glancing over at James. "Son, you got an ID on you?" he mutters with an appraising glance. "You look like my baby cousin's age, I'm gonna need to see your license." He pulls the handle of Calvert down anyway, just in case the kid makes good, thumping it down on the bartop. "Hey darlin'!" Jack yells at Emma, always personable when a paying customer is on the line.

"Yeah." James' eyes literally glow with annoyance, but he produces some identification. It's fake, but it's one of the best fakes you'll find in the state. Anybody that knows him personally (or through an investigation) would know he's only nineteen.

His gaze moves over to Emma as she's called out to. Recognition registers across his face and he turns back to the bar, doing his best to hide without making it look like he's hiding.

"What is it?" Flynn asks, and glances over at James, knowing that face from the alley, but the boy has already had his pass, so he is actually a bit attentive on the ID issue. He glances at it only briefly from down the bar, then looks back to Jack, waiting to hear about the specials. He has leaned himself slightly on the bar out of exhaustion from a long day of work, driving around the plowed streets of Raccoon city, getting the city running again after the blizzard.

Shaemus seems to be in better spirits than his master. He woofs to Jack, as if in greeting and nudges Emma's leg to get her attention. Her big silver eyes move to Jack, and then down to bar, to Flynn who she remembers seeing here the last time, and then.. James. Slowly she stands and goes to head to the bar, finding a seat between the cop and the guy trying to hide. They are all given a shy smile the stitches on her head clear as day, amd there is a slice on the palm of her hand. Looking to Jack there, with pained eyes and a tired tone she says gently in her Scottish accent "Gu -- guiness please."

Plucking up the fake ID from James, Jack gives it a studying glance, and it's close enough that he won't be in trouble for not being able to tell it's a fake, at least. It's holographic, it's James's face, that's all that matters here. Or is it? "Hey officer, you mind giving that the once-over for me? I hate to impose, but damn if my eyes aren't what they used to be." Kid looks too young. At least it doesn't say McLovin. "Hey Will," the barowner begins, stepping away from the whiskey to call back into the kitchen. "We ain't gettin' that trout, gonna have to make do without." And then he's back out, pulling a glass from under the bar for Emma's Guinness. "You like it room temp, right?"

"If it's not good enough I can leave." James lifts his shoulders in an easy shrug. He's not worried about the cop looking at it. But does jump slightly when Emma takes a seat next to him, but he recovers soon enough.

"Hey there." The teen flashes a warm smile, "I know you said I need to stay in the room under the stairs, but these people haven't even noticed my new contacts. So it's all good here."

Flynn eyeballs the license and says, "It looks fine to me, but if he gives you any trouble, I can call it in and double check him," he tells Jack, loudly enough so that James will hear. Which of course, might inadvertently also advertise to any other hoodlums in the bar that Flynn is a cop, and if they make trouble, Jack has 'backup.' "But about that special?" he asks.

Shaemus sits happily at his masters feet, content there to be at her side. He does seem weary of James though. There is a nod to Jack about the Guiness, it's how they drink it back home. To James she looks, and unlike before when she was holding a knife to him in fear, there is a look of confused sadness. Of all things, a delicate hand comes to pat his shoulder. Looking over to Flynn she tilts her head a little. "You -- you didn' happen ta see a medical case at yer precinct did ya?" This is asks softly, with her normal level of shyness.

"Good enough for me," Jack decides, latching onto the whiskey and popping the cap off with a few quick twists after he's served Emma her drink. "Put it on your tab, then, killer," he mutters to James, with his weird red eyes, as he pours out a tumbler of the Calvert. "Got good taste for a kid," the barkeep remarks, more to Flynn than James. "The special, tonight is gonna be pulled pork sliders, Will's been smokin' 'em the last three days while that blizzard had the roads jammed. They come with slaw and fries, that alrigh' with you?"

The sudden question from Emma earns her a glance and Flynn shakes his head, "No, you'd want to talk to the desk sergeant, we do have a lost and found." It's a large police department, and there are a lot of people coming and going at all hours, the chances of him finding something like that are relatively slim. He nods his head at Jack's special and says, "That sounds great, Jack, and a beer, whatever you gave me last time," he points at the Sam Addam's tap he'd gotten the drink from the last time. Remembering that much from the night with the dogs.

"When your older brother is a star athlete who's sleeping with the only girl you've ever loved, you learn what liquor you have a taste for." James offers sunnily, taking his ID back and tucking it into a breast pocket. "All starts to taste like self loathing after a while."

Emma takes a sip of her drink, it goes down well. She regards Flynn again and nods a little, frowning with a touch of worry. "I - I think it got lost in tha 'quake." Her tone is briefly hopeless, as if this object had some dire importance to her. "Jack, could I get some broth please?" An odd order, but she isn't feeling up for actual food. To James there is a look of surprise, such a sunny attitude to cover such an awful thing. "Dis - distractin' yerself ain't gonna make it better." There is a small nod to the whiskey.

"Well, son, that sounds like a problem that a forty- - - minute conversation could solve," Jack replies, stopping himself abruptly before he takes that to a place that's distinctly not PG. Luckily, he has an out with the orders and he ducks back into the kitchen. "Will, can you make me an order of sliders? I'm gonna heat some chicken stock quick." "Chicken stock, boss? We got yesterday's soup." "I know, just- it'll be fine."

"If it was at the station, they'll have found it, it's all cleaned up," Flynn explains while he eyes the rest of the menu for a moment or two, and nods at Jack once as he goes back into the kitchen. Turning on his stool, he looks to Emma, and adds, "If you can tell me what it looks like, I can check the lost and found when I head home. It's on the way," he tells her.

"I dunno about that. Found some pretty good ways to distract myself." James shoots Emma a wink. His glasses come off and the drink goes down, this is clearly not his first time drinking. "Sure it'll even out by the time I settle on a major." Mainly because rabid animals have already eaten Beth.

Nixie was a little nervous about traveling at night and taking shortcuts with everything that's been going on and getting attacked even herself! So instead of walking over she took a cab dressed in her usual outfit with that jacket zipped up and hood up just barely covering those goggles of hers. Stretching out she came in hefting a guitar over her shoulder and a smile on her face. Likely having already made a decent amount this evening.

As she came inside Nixie headed for the bar with a grin. "Hey Jack can I get a batch of tenders again? I actually made more then enough tonight. Thanks to the blizzard being over a lot more people are out and about in the parks and stuff." She noticed Emma nearby and offered a wave. "Oh hey! I didn't see you come in last night is everything okay?"

For a second eyes linger on James. She doesn't exactly believe him, but now is no time to press for any details. There is a small thankful nod to Jack for the broth and she then turns to face Flynn. "Ahh it's almost like a tool box." She begins, looks down shyly and tucks red hair behind her ear thinking of what else may he on it. "There is a medical symbol on the side, and inside are tools to draw blood, or give injections. Nothin' in there was for use, I just drew some blood off Buck that I need." Hearing Nixir a wave with her cut hand is given, cheeks flair red for forgetting to tell her roomie. "Head injury, in than quake. Was in hospital. Just got out."

When Nixie comes in and starts talking to Emma who is seated between him and James, he moves over a seat so that the girl can sit down next to her friend, especially since he hasn't received anything yet, so there isn't even anything to move. "Which park were you at?" he asks Nixie, curious which parks are active already, as he hadn't seen a ton of foot traffic while out driving around, but that was likely just the neighborhood he was in.

Leaning over slightly, he looks past her to Emma, and says, "So, a medical kit in a tool box. Easy enough to check," he repeats it back to her.

"Set me out a basket-a them fries, wouldya Will," Jack is saying, back there in the kitchen as he comes around the corner with Emma's bowl o' broth. "Here you are, sweetheart, don't burn your mouth, alright? I brought it to a boil; it just seemed like the right thing to do." Grinning, he wipes his hands on a towel and turns his attention toward the newly arrived Nixie, his garishly-patterned shirt probably enough cause to lower those goggles of hers. "Chicken tenders, coming up. Hey Will!" and he's gone again, leaning around the doorframe to give his never-seen cook instructions. "Same as last time, yeah? These my fries? Awesome." When he returns, there's a plate of pulled pork sliders that get slid across the bar to Flynn, stacked around a mountain of fries, and a basket for him that he stows on his wheelie cart, shoving a few shoestrings into his mouth to munch on. "Get you another one, kid?" That's to James.

She blinked a little surprised. "Oh geez Emma why didn't you call me?" She said concerned. "But I'm glad you're out, is everything okay?" She asked hopefully, not wanting there to be any outstanding problems. After all head injuries can be tricky. She hopped up turning to Flynn. "Oh just down the block it's pretty close by, there was a art showing today so there was a lot of people gathered to play for." She said with a grin. Nodding to Jack. "Thanks!" After hearing her order placed and settling in again. She leaned over and kissed Emma's head around the injury before giving her hair a palyful ruffle. "I'm sure glad you're okay though."

"If you wouldn't mind." James leans forward slightly, his curious red eyes settling on Nixie now. "I see how it is. Got your number pal." He harrumphs slightly, leaning forward to rest an elbow on the bar. "But seriously, how's it going? Didn't miss anything interesting, aside from that earthquake, did I?"

"Down the block.." Flynn repeats back and eyes Nixie as if trying to put it together. Then he is incredibly distracted by the food arriving, and he starts to eat with gusto. Focusing on the food, he looks over at Nixie and Emma from time to time as they talk, more because they're cute women talking than because he's really all that interested in their regular-people chatter about recent events. "What was the art exhibit? Any particular style, or just regular modern art?" he asks, being conversational.

Oh broth! An odd order yes, but she isn't feeling herself right now. There is a smile in thanks. "Soun - sounds great." She says softly to Jack, grinning more as Nixie kisses her head, there are stitches there! "I was outt it an' forgot, sorry." With an apologetic smile to Nixie and leaning to talk to Flynn she nods a little while her spoon swirls the soup. "I do really appreciate that, I know it seems -- seems kinda generic." But it's important to her. "I live a little way down tha street, too. Or if you want my number in case you find it."

Shrugging her shoulders to Flynn. "Oh I think so, I don't pay much attention I just check the papers and blogs and stuff to try to find places people are gonna be gathering to make some change." She said with a wink looking to James. "Is something wrong?" She asked a little confused before stretching out again before leaning against the bar with a soft sigh. "I'm glad I can finally relax again a day of playing wears me out like nothing else." She laughed softly and nudges Emma. "How many cops do we need snooping around our loft huh?" She teased. "I'm gonna start thinking you have a type Emma."

Jack pours out another one for James, ducking back into the kitchen afterward to fetch the chicken tenders and fries for Nixie. It's a busy night, but business is a good thing. As he slides the basket across to the musician, he glances curiously towards James again. "The hell you got wrong with your eyes, anyway, boy? I don't want your parents comin' in here to read me the riot act over some sorta moonshine witchhunt," he warns, shoving a French fry into his mouth like a cigarette. "Tryin' to build a goddamn /brand/ here."

"I can take down your information, if you'd like, or I can just leave it here at Jack's since I know you come here fairly often," Flynn suggests and gestures behind the bar, as if that weren't obvious. That being said, he continues to eat his meal, absolutely starved from that long day at work. That and the food is pretty good.

"Hell if I know." James takes the drink in one go, his eyes glowing brighter than either Emma or Nixie's hair. "I think I'm good." The money clip kept in his breast pocket is pulled out and what he owes plus a tip is thrown onto the bar.

"Figure I better go back and get to sleep before any cops start poking around." That glow keeps right on, even shining through the sunglasses he puts back over them.

Emma frowns as Jack brings up James eyes. "Contacts." She tosses out quick and and turns her head quick to Nixie, going red. "Yer - yer invitin' people up." She says gently and then grabs a napkin and pulls a pen out of her jacket. Her information is written down. "Here, this.. this is my information here. I have my cell on me all tha time, home or hospital." She laughs softly to. "It's hard to not stop for a pint after yet shift at tha hospital but may this'd not be tha first place to look."

Entering from the front door, Frank West strolls into Jack's Bar, stopping for a moment in order to surveying the area. A blank look comes over the photographer's face as he looks around, murmuring to himself, "So this is Jack's bar, huh?" Finishing his scan, Frank nods approvingly, appearing to appreciate some of the finer features this dive has as he begins to make his way towards the middle of the bar. Upon passing by, he gains the attention of a few of the local patrons, who look him over with a suspicious gaze. If its not apparent by now, its pretty clear that he's considered to be an outsider to the locals but there's ways of getting around that right?

Frank offers folks a slight smile, a nod, and a couple welcoming gestures to try and ease the mood a bit before pulling up a seat at the bar. He pulls out a little cash and taps it lightly on the wooden table before making eye-contact with the bartender, Jack, I believe his name was, right? Frank nods at the man, offering him a wave then glances up at the various bottles that line the face of the bar, pondering if he'll be meeting up with Jack or Johnny tonight?

"They ain't no fuc-" Jack starts to retort in response to Emma's quick interjection, catching himself as he remembers the sweet innocent young ears he's about to drop bombs in front of. "They ain't no freaking contacts," he amends, his own baby blues boring a hole in the back of James's skull for a moment until Frank comes in and he snaps out of it to make his usual pitch. "Welcome to Jack's Bar," the man in the loudly-printed shirt calls, spreading his hands out on the bartop and leaning into them. "I- am- Jack, and it is my pleasure to serve you tonight. What can I get for you? Start you off with a drink?" Drink. "...goddamn it, Flynn, I forgot your Sam Adams," he mutters, reaching under the bar for a glass.

Looking towards Frank as she came in she nudged Emma slightly. "Hey i think I've seen that guy in the paper before, I think he covers wars." She said a little surprised before looking to Flynn. "What did you need to talk to Emma about anyhow?" She asked curiously. "Did something else happen?" Looking between Flynn and Emma a moment with a curious glance as if she was wondering if Emma was hiding something from her.

"You got it." Taking the information, Flynn tucks the napkin into his pocket. He isn't looking at James, being distracted by girls at the moment, but he isn't making any assumptions with that information. He just takes the number and tucks it away. Focusing on Nixie again, he answers, "I am helping her find something, if she left it at the station, that is," and smiles at her a little. "If you'd like me to take your number too, I don't want anyone to feel left out," he says with a laugh and takes the Sam Addam's from Jack. He enjoys a sip and leans back a little in his chair. Flynn is in good spirits, all joking aside. "Thanks Jack."

Richard was here for... let's call it 'adventurism'. There were a few professional bars near the business park that were a bit overpriced and stale these days; most of the other ones he'd seen in a quick review through Zagats were either those trendy independent places, or hole-in-the-wall places with enough fire code violations that they were a metal concert away from disaster. Not that the smoke in here helped someone who had quit and was trying to stay quit.

Still, it was at least new, mostly clean, and had that charm of a place whose owner knew what s/he was doing. And the price on the liquor wasn't too bad either... and he really didn't need much. A quick walk over to the bar, on a stool, and nodding to Jack. "I'll have a... whatever's domestic, I guess. Did I catch happy hour?" He says, quickly checking a watch.

Frank extends his hand, offering it to Jack, "Frank. Frank West and its a pleasure to be served by you, Jack.", then glances over at the bottles, smiling a bit as he finally decides what he wants and turns back to Jack, "Say, could I get a Johnny Black, on the rocks, if you'd be so kind?" Frank glances a away for a moment, taking note of those around him once again. He's a reporter. People watching is his thing, after all! He manages to catch the form of Nixie, glancing over at him and while is just barely out of earshot, manages to catch her short little comment. He chuckles lightly, followed by the form of a grin about his face before returning back to Jack, "As for anything else, I think a drink will suit me for a moment. Just got into town actually. A friend of mind recommended your place to me, saying you might be able to give me some sights to see here in the city," Frank turns over towards Richard as he arrives, bidding him a nod as well. Apparently, he's not the only one showing up fashionably late.

"Jack," Emma says softly to him, smirking just a little. "I'm tha youngest of four, three older brothers. We're Scots, try ta say somethin' I've not heard." Still there is that sweetness about her. Turning to the new comers Emma regards them for a second, her bear sized curled up at her feet lifts his head briefly. She then turns to regard Flynn, and lifts a brow as he asks for Nixie's number too. "I can only think it -- it got lost in tha department. It isn't at tha hospital." Her shy scottish accent still clear through the chatter.

"It's those animals. They don't have fucking rabies." James starts to head out, but he catches what Frank has to say. "Want my advice? Shouldn't have came to the city. Gonna turn to shit here pretty soon, I mean I got bit by a rabid dog not too far from here, and then hit by a fucking van the next day." He's very clearly not alright, but at least he's done shouting for now.

"Even Beth's dead. I mean she was Chad's girlfriend. But I loved her too. Before he did. And those animals tore her apart. After the blizzard I bet they were blizzard." Something hits him and he stands up a touch straighter, "Unless they didn't die like me. They could be out there somewhere."

If we were going by the IC time, Richard, you'd have caught it. Unfortunately we time-hopped 5 hours ahead at the beginning of the scene. "No sir," Jack replies pleasantly, working the tap to get Flynn's beer filled up before he finishes those pulled pork sliders. "But I'll tell you what." And he slides the glass over to Flynn, turning his attention and that easy grin towards the two newcomers. "Seeing as you're both first-time guests, and didn't know what our happy hours are, and this is, in fact, the greatest bar known to man, your first round is on me." That ought to put a smile on anyone's face. The barowner casually reaches behind the bar for a few more from his personal fry stash, stuffing one into the corner of his mouth and letting it hang there like a cigarette while he talks. "So you can avoid this catastrophe in days to come, gentlemen, the bar is open from 3" and three fingers are held up, "to 3," and turned the other way, "no exceptions, no blackouts, no early closing, no last call. Three to three, without fail, and happy hour's gonna hit you right from four to six." That quirky grin starts to work away as he chews the fry with no hands involved, turning to run his fingers down the rows of liquor bottles arraigned behind him. "Johnny Black, here we go," pulling it down and tossing a tumbler onto the bar for Frank. "Sam Adams seasonal alright with you, sir?" That's for Richard. When he's done, he gives Emma a wink. "My momma'd have my head if she knew I was tossin' bombs like that in front of a girl like you, sweet pea." And then. And then James. "Son, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he tuts, hands falling to his hips in the image of his very same, very foul-tempered mother.

Nixie gave a little snickering snort of a sound as he asked for her number. "Hah you know me and Emma live together right? I can't be playing games with my own roommate like that." she said and put an arm around Emma briefly in a hug. "But to be honest.. I dunno if Emma even likes boy.. I guess we never really talked to much about relationships. Were always nerding out over art and music most of the time." She said with a finger tapping against her own lip curiously. She listened to James Rant. "I dunno I heard a STARS officer saying these kinds of things come in 'waves' and it'll probably blow over soon." She said hopeful that said officer was right.

"She just wants her medkit, I wasn't asking her out," Flynn replies, and laughs a bit more in good spirits as he sips at his drink and finishes the last of his meal before pushing the basket back across the bar along with the money for the bill and a tip. All flirting aside, he nods to both, as he starts to get to his feet. "What comes in waves?" he asks Nixie.

Richard Stadler looks with suprise at Jack! Only... mildly, though. It wasn't /completly/ out of character for a bar owner to attempt to gain some more regulars. Still... it deserved an honest smile and a thank you, at least. "Well, I... appreciate it! Sorry, I didn't know about it earlier. This place wasn't in the reviews, and I normally don't come to this part of the city. Probably going to do it more, though, with this hospitality!" He notes, before pausing. "I'm not the type to take advantage, though, so I think just that beer will be enough. Err... maybe two, if you're paying for the first one." It's not fair to take a freebie and run, after all.

3 to 3, though. That was easy enough to remember. If they had good food, it might be a good place to go to if he was late enough that waking the house was a possibility. He'll gives a nod back over to Frank for a moment, before collecting his beer... and then pauses. "Wait a minute." He says, turning back. "Did you say Frank West? The photojournalist? Or... Maybe the name's just familiar. I thought I read something in Time? Or Newsweek? Something impressive, I remember. Dangerous." He says, before coughing. "Sorry if there's a mistaken identity. I'm... a little out of my element at the small talk." He says, trying a grin and taken the sort of pull on a beer a man makes when he only plans to have perhaps 2, and not entertaining the notion of 3.

But... talk does come around to less pleasent things, causing the grin to fall from his face. "I'm... I'd like to say he doesn't have a point, but I think we're all scared of those dogs coming down from the mountains, or whatever. All we need is one kid in the wrong place to get bit. Scary stuff." He notes... tactfully ignoring the obviously drunk man saying he 'died'. He hoped that guy wasn't a regular. He wasn't looking for a lot of crazy people.

A brow lifts, Emma regards Jack with a little more of a smirk. "Yer momma talk ya well." This is said with a touch of humour. Eyes move to the newcomers briefly because Nixie has her arm around her and is talking boys. Cheeks flair red, she looks fown shyly. "I like boys." She does. "I - I just.. never know if ther linkin' me." Poor shy, sweet Scottish lass. There is a clearing of her throat and a sip of her Guiness. Looking up to James there is a tired frown. "I'm-- I'm gonna get in trouble fur this. Nixie I need ta go to work." But she just left the hospital with a head injury! Doctors work is never done. "If -- if ya find it, get a hold of me please." Some money is put on the bar for Jack for her stuff and she heads to James. "Ya need ta calm down

A brow lifts, Emma regards Jack with a little more of a smirk. "Yer momma talk ya well." This is said with a touch of humour. Eyes move to the newcomers briefly because Nixie has her arm around her and is talking boys. Cheeks flair red, she looks fown shyly. "I like boys." She does. "I - I just.. never know if ther linkin' me." Poor shy, sweet Scottish lass. There is a clearing of her throat and a sip of her Guiness. Looking up to James there is a tired frown. "I'm-- I'm gonna get in trouble fur this. Nixie I need ta go to work." But she just left the hospital with a head injury! Doctors work is never done. "If -- if ya find it, get a hold of me please." Some money is put on the bar for Jack for her stuff and she heads to James. "Ya need ta calm down. As yer doctor that's an order now."

Frank smiles and nods to Jack, "You served me up a lot of good points to why this place has the reputation it has, Jack and I'll say, I like it.", appearing to ignore the dismal conversation taking place but remaining to listen nevertheless, as he happily takes his drink from the good bartender. The Freelancer turns to Richard, who appears to have identified him as well. The sudden notice takes Frank off guard a little, causing him to grin just a bit, "Nah, that's me. In the flesh.", seeing how he is a newcomer as well and raises his glass, "Well, I suppose a toast is in order. Here's to our good host, Jack! Cheers, friend.", clinking glasses with the rather stylish man. As previously noted, the conversation at hand doesn't escape him and Frank simply continues to listen for a few more moments, particularly about the part with the rabid animals and how one civilian's view is that this "town is about to turn to shit". He appears lightly humored at the latter comment that was made by the young buck, thinking to himself,

Well then, if what he's saying is true, then I came exactly to the right place then.

Frank turns his attention over to James and asks, "What makes you think all of that, young man? It appears to me you might know a few things, so tell me about em won't you?"

There's the sound of a door opening as RCU Quarterback Chad Scott walks right out of the mens bathroom, wearing his leterman jacket. His hair is frazzled and he has lipstick kiss-marks all around his neck leading down towards the chest of his button down shirt. He buttons up his shirt, trying to shove his hair back into place, hoping to look at least somewhat respectable but he's still got that confident swagger about him, as he moves back for the bar.

He finds the seat closest to James, and just moves an arm around his little brother. "What're you up to here Jimmy, not causing any trouble I hope?" That bright smile across his face smug and self confident, as he moves to tussle the younger mans hair. "Don't want to wind up having to bail you out of another jail cell."

Nixie gave a concerned look to Emma. "Hey if you're going back at least let me take you so I know you got there okay, you should know better then anyone else how dangerous head injuries are." She said with a half smile hopping up and giving Emma a half hug even smirked a little bit as the girl explained she liked boys. "You're always so cute Emma, c'mon I wanna hear all about how you got those stitches anyhow."

James Scott stops mid-stride when Chad comes around. "Hey, Chad." A hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, "Ah, you haven't answered any of mom's calls have you?" Emma and Nixie get a nod, "I'll be a little late getting back, try not to lock me out this time."

"Don't tell mom you saw me, alright? She thinks I'm dead. Well, I was. Dead." It'd almost be funny to see the teen so anxious around his older brother, but really it just explains a few things. "Ah. Yeah. It's a long story." Poor Frank is all but forgotten now.

Oh, Thankfully people were here who actually knew the crazy guy that were coming to handle him. A doctor and what looks to have been a friend... who had just been doing something in the bathroom. And a doctor with visible stitches...

And Stadler had to take an actual look at James for a moment, taking a look at his eyes. Frowning. Contacts? They had to be... or some sort of radical tattoo. They talked about that, in some newspaper article he caught on the tram. But... ehh. There was a doctor, so if he was bitten by a rabid dog, /surely/ he was being taken care of. So he'll suppress curiousity, and instead look over to Frank, raising his own drink. "I can toast to that. To... good barkeeps, I imagine." He says, taking another drink-

Another look to James. More of that dead stuff. GOddamn but this is a story. HOpefully it would stay like that and not get... more awkward.

"Magnanimous, the two of you," Jack announces, stepping back from the bar a bit and watching the odd exchange between the brothers Scott over there, already mentally subtracting the first round from their tabs. "Can I get you anything to eat," he offers, eyes still skewed that way. "Special's pulled pork sliders, got some housemade slaw on 'em we whipped up this morning..." He was dead? "...Where's that cop who was-" Flynn's gone. "You guys hearing this kid?"

Ah this poor Scottish lass, tired and pained and struggling to keep up. She caves, and looks to Nixie. "I'll be back at tha house, can talk there." There is a blush at the comment too. But for now, she'll go, with her dancers grace, out the door to head home, Shaemus at her side broth barely touched and Guiness even less so (how odd!)

Frank grins and takes a drink as him and Richard exchange toasts. However, when inquired about the kid's story, the journalist is mostly ignored in favor of of Mr. Scott, a friend by the looks of things. Given the kids rather frantic outburst earlier, the entire story seems a bit suspicious and then the comments of being "Dead" and now "Not Dead", throwing up even more red flags. After all, he's heard rumors but nothing concrete enough to bring about questions regarding Raccoon City and just continues to listen a little more regarding the dead man and his quarterback friend. Frank turns his attention to Jack and Richard as he takes another drink, "Actually, the special sounds nice. I'm famished so I'll take an order!", then shakes his head to disregard the comment regarding James, "Ah, kids say the darndest things, especially as they get into the later years. Who knows?", obviously playing off the idea about James' recent re-animation, if you will.

Chad leans in slightly looking at his brothers eyes. "Where'd you learn that trick?" He's mesmerised for a moment. "Don't tell me you found some new kick floating ar-" A pause before something finally dawns on him. The college football star begins patting himself down looking for something. "Ah hell, don't tell me I left my phone in the delta." He runs a hand through his hair. "Dammit, that's the last time I leave that thing in the glove box." He pauses, again, for a few moments. "Right, uh Jack I'll take a martini, hold the vermouth, and the olive. Just found out my brother apparently thinks he's Jesus, and I think I need to kill a few braincells before I can cope with that."

He pauses a long moment, before looking towards Frank. "Hey, aren't you that" The wheels in his head spin for a moment. "reporter?" He shakes his finger slightly. "The one who... Frank something right?" He leans a bit back. "Wadkins right?"

Oh, Lord, more people were bringing it up. A quick nod to the barkeep. "I'm in a mode to experiment." He says. "That pretty much sums up my day, too. For now, though, sure. If you'd recommend the special, I'd take an order. Sounds like a good pairing." He says... and, when a change in conversation doesn't seem to be in the offing, lowers his voice. "Yeah, yeah. Some... drunk teenager with tatto'd eyes. Drunk or high, I'd have to guess." He says, head motioning slightly to the group of three, Emma and the Scotts. Or the Scot and the Scotts, if you wanted to be clever. "It looks like he's got people to help him out, so I don't think it's any of our business." Obviously mirroring Frank's disinterest with a deliberate one of his own. His job would be to have an amusing story for Kathy tonight over some rented DVDs. Not sticking his neck out and getting stabbed by some high kid.

Not that he envived the reporter. /Everyone/ knew who he was. He didn't think this many people read the news magazines!

"You know what Chad.. just go talk to mom. I'm tired of making myself look stupid." James sighs quietly, turning and heading towards the door. His voice lowers to a murmur, "Never coming here again. Didn't even get to get drunk." That's one way to end an evening.

"Sliders, coming right up," Jack replies to Frank, glancing over at Richard. "I'll get one in for you too. Will's been smokin' this pork for the last three days, and it's the closest you'll ever get to trippin' balls off a sandwich." When James heads out, Jack is less than sorrowful to see him go. Really, he's too busy poking his head into the kitchen to yell "Hey Will! Two sliders with fries, make sure you use the blanched batch from this morning, I don't want to use tomorrow's taters on this."

Frank turns over toward Chad, as he addresses him, "Frank West. Freelance and you might be?", inquiring of the athletic youth as he looks him over, "Jock, huh? You appear to be built like a brick-house, young man. That has me believing you play ball. What position? Linebacker, wide receiver, or are you the lead man?" Frank listens as Chad's friend (AKA brother) goes on a bit of tantrum and then heads out. He remains quiet for a moment before glancing back at Chad, "Sounds like trouble at home. Who was that kid anyway, if you don't mind my asking?"

Frank turns to Jack and nods, offering the man a grateful smile once more, "Preciate it! Sounds pretty divine to me and looking forward to it.", clinking glasses with Richard once again, "I don't know about you two but this place is growing on me.", then turns to the fancy scientist next to him, "By the way, I didn't catch your name."

When Chad seems to be sticking around, Jack emerges from the bar to start fixing up that martini. It's a delicate process, one that few have mastered, and he blocks out the rest of the bar for a few minutes while he works on it.

"Come on James, no need to go running off on your own again." Chad starts to run after his brother before just stopping at the threshold. He looks out that door for a long moment leaning on the frame, before turning back. "Ah hell, he'll be back." Walking slowly back over towards the bar again he places hands in his pocket. "Chad Scott, quarterback, and that was little Jimmy." He grabs back to that seat, running a hand through his hair yet again. "Best drug dealing, girlfriend stealing, asshole of a brother I could ask for."

Wonderful. He'll be back. "I hope he's not always like that if he's a regular here. I'm looking for a place to drink without most of the crazies. Or... illegal folks. I'm not a cop, but I just hope he doesn't deal drugs here." Or, worse, near his house. Stilll he was gone, now. And Stadler's being asked his name, to which the bespecled man extends a hand toward Frank. "Richard Stadler. Pleasure to meet you. You can add Doctor to that, if you want to be fancy; just know I'm not the type that can save your life in most occassions. And before you ask, no, I can't talk about anything."

"We got a lot of cops who drink here," Jack puts in from behind the bar, still with his back to the world while he's mixing up that martini. When he finally emerges, the glass is fairly sparkling, and he slides the stemware carefully across the counter to the rumpled up jock. It's about the world's biggest contrast between drink and drinker and frankly it emphasizes the level of douche. "Nice choice," he remarks with a snarky grin.

Frank nods to Chad, "Good to meet ya, Chad.", then listens to rather poor view of his little brother. Sounds like these two need to sit down and watch some TGIF and some bonding courses! Frank takes another sip of his scotch and nods to the young man, "Sorry to hear about that. Sounds like things with your little brother are rough." Frank turns to Richard as he introduces himself and smiiles, "I see. Well, well met, Richard. I'm not big on formalities much, so we can keep it casual. Besides, it seems to be the air here and I'm meeting a lot a new and interesting folks." Frank turns back to Jack and nods, "Sounds like this place has a bit of a rough beat. What's the story there?", to which he exchanges a glance between all three of the guys amidst the discussion.

Pfft. Richard could empathize... possible, if he had seen his sister in the better part of a decade. But Penny was odd, compared to... well. Crazy. Still, he can give at least /one/ nod of understanding to the quaterback. "Cops, huh? At least that makes this place safer, so long as we're not on anyone's bad side." He notes, before looking back to Frank. "Then Rick is fine. That's one of the reasons I want to go to a bar like this. The ones in the hotels next to Corporate are always filled with co-workers. I mean, networking is good, but sometimes you want to get a drink or two without feeling like it's work, you know?" He says. EMphasis on two. "What about a beat?"

At the reaction from Richard Chad adds on a quick "Alleged, alleged drug dealer." While he watches that gin in a martini glass get made. His own head just getting a quick crack out. "Never been convicted." He kicks back on the barstool. "End of the day we're still family, can't choose who you're born to, just gotta make the most out of it." Pause for a beat or two. "Place has its charms"

A rather nice looking blonde woman quietly makes her way out from the direction of the mens bathroom, before heading out for the front door. Perfect makeup and a plaid button down shirt, with jeans to complete the look.

Frank readdresses Richard, "Rick it is, then. Also, a beat is a slang term used the law enforcement to describe an officer's route when they are on patrol." The journalist glances over at Chad and nod, noticing the young lady entering the bar, "Guess you have a point, young man. It does have its perks, after all.", then appears to turn back to Rick, about to ask him another couple questions but glances at his watch (Its a Mega Man Limited Edition one to boot! ) and tchs, finding that he's not going to be able to have that talk he wanted. Frank flags down Jack, "Hey, Jack! Unfortunately, I need to run. So I may have to take a raincheck on those sliders.", then proceeds to throw down some cash, "Here's a bit for your trouble and thanks again for the drink!"Frank smiles, Chad and Richard on the back, "You guys have a good night... and remember to not drink and drive.", before heading for the door.